


Townie

by rmayuscula



Series: Last Words of a Shooting Star [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmayuscula/pseuds/rmayuscula
Summary: He wishes he could have breakfast, and he prays for Laurent to grow out of this phase soon, to go back to his monk-like lifestyle. Another month of this and he might be forced to intervene. Compared to this cheap hedonism, he prefers the year when Laurent made them join every sports club at school.
Relationships: Aimeric/Laurent (Captive Prince), Laurent/Aimeric/Jord (Captive Prince)
Series: Last Words of a Shooting Star [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180028
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Townie

**Author's Note:**

> Set in I Bet on Losing Dogs' universe. During the boys' first year at university.
> 
> Like Losing Dogs, this is self indulgent and mostly me projecting onto Aimeric, but isn't that what life is about?
> 
> Yes, another Mitski song as a title and what little plot this has, it's ripped off Townie.

He nudges the bathroom door open with his left foot, arms crossed against his chest, eyes closed and holding his breath. It reeks of piss and the floor is sticky, he can see it’s covered in dubious stains. Mostly mud and puke, although he can’t be sure.

Aimeric doesn’t bother checking under the stalls, it’s too early for anyone to be in here. There’s only one other group in the bar beside his own. The mirror is covered in stickers, his reflection smudged with grime. So different from the clubs he and Laurent used to sneak in, back at home.

He stares at himself, his face is flushed red and he wills himself to calm down. He can’t point down the moment when he became an angry drunk instead of a sad one. He knew that this would happen, he should've eaten something before coming here. He debates asking Laurent for some coke, it’ll probably distract him enough to ignore his growling stomach, but that’s not what he wants.

The reminder of Laurent earlier this afternoon trying to empty the white dust into that ridiculous locket he insists on carrying around, would usually make him laugh, at least smile. Not tonight. Tonight, Aimeric wants to murder him more than usual.

He wonders if he’s doing this to himself because of what happened to him, as he does with most things. If it’s because he cannot stand anyone loving him fully, loving him and him only. Aimeric knows it’s not Laurent’s fault. Laurent doesn’t even seem particularly interested in Jord; he probably thinks the man is just another one of Aimeric’s own penances.

Jord isn’t, though. Jord is sweet and kind and gentle and respectful and Aimeric wants him, he wants to keep him and he wants to step on his heart, break it into a million pieces and swallow every one of them. The jut of his hipbone hurts, the sink is digging onto him, it’ll bruise.

But he’s got to share. He and Laurent have shared everything with each other, everything that matters. And this is his part of the bargain, Laurent remains with him and he gets to be away from Laurent, as much as he needs to.

Laurent is still stifling, infuriating and antagonizing. No matter how many years have passed, Aimeric can’t stop feeling like he’s being choked, between a dagger and a wall. He cannot be rid of him, he’s oily hands and this sticky tile under his feet, he’s smoke-covered clothes and sugared fingers, he’s the smell of burnt hair. And Aimeric doesn’t want to be rid of him. At this point, they’re conjoined, their hearts stitched together.

He’s not sure of who is funding Laurent’s brand new little habit and hopefully it’s not their shared savings account. He believes that they might be able to afford it, with the shithole they ended up renting being cheap, and it’s not like they spend much in groceries, between the two of them.

But still, Aimeric doesn’t think he can stand this life much longer, no matter what Laurent believes that he deserves, that they deserve. If Laurent wants to torture himself and Aimeric, he can do it from a better part of town too. He’s tired of the eternal flights of stairs that lead up to their flat and of their loud neighbors.

They’re both so stupid for having moved to the city like this, coinless and disowned by his family, with Laurent’s inheritance in his uncle’s pocket. It’s been one of their worst decisions, and a joint one, this time. The ever-growing pile of uni readings and homework and bills and his father’s phone calls and he needs to get his bloodwork done, and he decides that he won’t let Laurent waste their money away, he should find a cheaper vice instead, if that’s what he wants to do. That conversation will turn into a full-on, blown-out fight, he knows it.

Thinking of it has only made Aimeric more upset, he curses himself. And he’s hungry too, that annoys him more. He wishes he could be in bed, instead of here. He thinks of splashing his face with water, but one look at the rusted faucet convinces him not to.

One of the stall doors creaks open and a girl walks out. Shit, it’s the ladies’ room, how did he not notice? The girl gives him an understanding half-smile. Does he look wasted, then?

She’s pretty, he guesses. Her blouse has a low neckline; it shows off her cleavage. It reminds him of Jord, five minutes ago, unbuttoning the top of Laurent’s shirt to press a kiss to his neck. She’s pretty enough, he likes her brown eyes, doe-like. He supposes that, if he was interested in women, he would find her prettier.

Well, Laurent won’t care and Aimeric knows what Jord truly wants, and it’s not him. It hurts a little, and hurt has always made him reckless.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” It’s blunt, and he cringes internally, but she might distract him, direct his self-loathing towards a different part of himself.

It doesn’t really work though, she tilts her head after giving him a once over, what he’s wearing isn’t helping, clearly. Rejected comp-het is a new low for him. When he finally walks out of the toilets, Laurent is waiting for him, blank look on his face as always.

“Jord’s gone home.” The locket is nowhere in sight, probably buried in Laurent's pocket after being used, and Aimeric’s not in the mood to end the night by getting fucked in some alleyway, or carrying a passed out Laurent all the way home or having to stop one of Laurent’s now signature drunk-brawls. The most recent one was with a man he swears was at least two meters tall.

“I think I’m leaving too.”

Aimeric wakes up, laid down on the wet grass of a city garden, the morning after. A headache at his temples, it's not from a hangover. Laurent had asked him to stay.

The blond is an arm span away, face down. There’s chewing gum on his hair and he can see a blooming bruise on his back, where his shirt has ridden up. A younger Aimeric would have believed this display, stone-cold-bitch passed out in public, impossible but a younger Laurent wouldn't have done anything similar to these benders of his either. Aimeric didn't drink enough to forget last night. Laurent's bruise is boot-shaped, from a book vendor's kick, when he had tried to steal a copy of Wuthering Heights. He finds that he succeeded, Laurent is using the paperback as a pillow.

It’s a nice neighborhood too, a woman is walking a small dog and she looks like she wants to call the police on them.

He wishes he could have breakfast, and he prays for Laurent to grow out of this phase soon, to go back to his monk-like lifestyle. Another month of this and he might be forced to intervene. Compared to this cheap hedonism, he prefers the year when Laurent made them join every sports club at school.

Aimeric shakes Laurent awake while fantasizing of breaking up with him, as is usual.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, what I would do to write a whole multi-chapter about Laurent's little quarter-life crisis, if only I were a bit smarter so I could understand him better.
> 
> So, in my opinion, I think that Laurent would be the 'I'm gonna get a tramp stamp tattoo at 16' kind of teenager in a modern AU, where he truly has nothing to lose, no kingdom and not a single hope either, nothing to fight for, really, except for himself. But one of Laurent's charms has always been his self-restrain, so I ended up with this characterization as a compromise, as I believe that long cycles of moderation and excess could be plausible too, in a setting where his usual self-destructiveness could be expanded beyond 'yeah, I'll fight with my entire guard, because why not'.
> 
> Aimeric, in my mind, has always been people-pleasing and self-punishing, without a doubt. So I kept him that way.
> 
> Anyways, I think Laurent/Aimeric would be terribly angsty because of their own issues, which is the reason why I love it as a pairing. I believe Aimeric would grow very resentful over time and Laurent would be too careless with him, as we see in canon, nothing like the caring person that Nicaise brings out of him. Their dynamic would lack the communication that makes Laurent/Damen work, since they're so similar but their understanding of one another would be incredibly biased by their own feelings and perspectives, since they get together at a really young age in Losing Dogs, where they are not mature enough to grow better together, but to make each other worse.
> 
> And yes, Jord totally dipped when he realized that Aimeric was leaving him alone with an intoxicated Laurent that lacks his canon counterpart's self-possesion, at least in this phase of his life.
> 
> This little ficlet totally isn't based on my own years spent cleaning not-boyfriend's vomit and trying to convince uber drivers that he wouldn't throw up on his ride home. Not at all.
> 
> Find me on tumblr as @arsaces-undone (or @rmayuscula).


End file.
